Towards Sunday, June 5, 2016

Reading:  I Kings 17:8-24  (Drought has come upon the kingdom of Israel, and the prophet Elijah is suffering its effects as much as all the kingdom.  God sends the prophet to ask a poor widow in a neighbouring country to feed him and give him what he needs to carry on.  She also is so poor and needy that she has just enough for one last little meal to help her and her son die in peace, but in faith Elijah compels her to feed him, and in faith she does.  As promised, her food does not run out, and soon after when her son soon falls deathly ill, the prophet restores him to life.)

As in other Elijah stories, the prophet is sent outside his home country and beyond the bounds of his own people to experience the grace of God, and to grow into his vocation and spiritual power.   

Something amazing here about living and moving beyond the bounds of whatever religious establishment or community we belong to, to be given what we need for both our and our community's journey with God.


Everyone is poor and needy.  The people and leadership of Israel, the prophet of God, the foreign widow and her son, and the people of her country are all suffering and seemingly without the resources they need to survive and move ahead.

Does that sound like where we and the world seem to be today -- everyone, both friend and foe, both people en masse and people wanting to make a difference -- in need and without resources to do the job?


Good things start to happen, though, when the prophet goes to a foreign widow in need, and asks her to feed him, promising that her charity and his need, her little food and his hunger will create the miracle of God's providence (and ultimately the occasion of God's saving, restoring power) that they need.

Am I as prepared as Elijah was, to admit my need and go to someone else in need -- someone who I might think it's my job to preach to, or to save, and instead ask them to help me with whatever little bit they have?  (John Stott famously describes evangelism as one beggar telling another beggar where to find bread; am I willing and able to see myself as a beggar dependent on other beggars' resources?)

This Sunday is the 91st Anniversary of the founding of the United Church of Canada.  The church was founded upon the call to be a prophetic, leading, healing presence in Canada and the world.  Are we suffering drought and need at this point in our story?  What would it mean for us as a church to confess our poverty, go to others as needy as ourselves, and ask them to help us with whatever little they may have?  To whom does God lead us, to be strangely fed?

And, yes, so far this is mainly ideas and questions.  I trust as the week goes on, I will find my way into my own experiences of drought, beggary and being graciously and surprisingly fed at the hands of other beggars -- as well as the things that make me hold back from following that holy path.

Sermon from Sunday, May 29, 2016

Reading:  I Kings 18:20-40
Theme:  Elijah still calls to Mount Carmel

I like Elijah.  He’s a strong, forthright character in a time of dangerous idolaters and wishy-washy compromisers.  He has deep insight into the stories, the law, and the kingdom of Yahweh.  He lets himself be guided by Yahweh-spirit, and in the strength of that he publicly challenges the king’s policies, denounces the queen who is leading the king and the people only further into worship of Baal, and he calls out 450 priests of Baal to meet him on Mount Carmel to see whose god’s way – that of their Baal or that of his Yahweh, is really the one to save the kingdom from the economic, environmental, political and social crisis into which it has fallen.

Elijah is clearly the hero of the story – the prophet with the powerful, penetrating voice the people need at this time in their history.  We’re supposed to like him.

But at the same time, I wonder, should we really be too hard on the priests of Baal – or at least, on the people increasingly falling under their sway?  Because what really is Baal and Baalism?

On one hand, it is an ancient pagan fertility religion with strange rites – some fanciful, some terrible.  Baal was the local god of Canaan who was worshiped to serve the well-being of those who lived in that land.  If a field was not producing, for instance, a little statue of Baal buried in the corner of the field would help turn things around.  If a couple was newly married and wanted children, lay a little statue or a gift to the god under the bed.  For general well-being, a sacred sexual rite might be in order.  And if things were really bad and more drastic intervention were needed – like being saved from plague or an invading enemy or total social breakdown, more drastic sacrifices – even of human lives, could be required.

It sounds so anciently pagan.  Something now only in books.  Not something we need to worry about, or have sympathy for.

But I wonder.  Is it just an ancient fertility religion built around a local God of old Canaan?  Or is it something more universal – more widely and commonly human than that?  Are we really free, even now, of the tendency and temptation at times to idolize our own country, our tribe, our family, and our home and hearth?  Are we still willing sometimes, to make sacrifices we shouldn’t – or make others make sacrifices in ways they shouldn’t have to, to serve our prosperity and save the well-being of our little part of the world?

In the story, the line between Elijah who worships Yahweh-God – the God of human liberation and holy community-formation anywhere on Earth, and those who worship Baal – the god of purely local prosperity and well-being – is drawn pretty hard and fast – in pretty absolute terms.  And no doubt that’s part of the attractiveness of the story.  But I wonder if the line is ever that sharp or that hard and fast in real life.  Or whether we all somehow straddle it – and if in different ways at different times the line between commitment to God and commitment to Baal goes right through the middle of all of us, all our life long.

Which makes me wonder then, too, about the mass killing of the 450 priests of Baal at the end of the contest and the end of the story.  I really do like Elijah; but the story nowhere says Yahweh told him to finish the contest with mass murder and extinction of the losing side.  I wonder what Yahweh thought of it when it happened.  Whether God in any way approves of it?  Or whether Elijah – for all his charisma and heroicness, is also not perfect – makes mistakes – is as human, imperfect and sometimes plain wrong as the rest of us?

The priests of Baal certainly thought so during the contest, because just think of it, and of how the way the contest went must have seemed to everyone there at the time.  It’s easy for us to read the story and see it simply as a test to see which of two gods will prove to be stronger, with more firepower, and therefore more to be feared, and listened to, and worshiped.  Which is the same test religious fundamentalists and terrorists are still foisting on the world today – acting out the belief that their god is stronger, more fiery, and will win out in the end.

But there was something other than that at stake in the contest on Mount Carmel.  Remember the situation.  The kingdom is in crisis – economically, environmentally, politically, socially and morally, and the question is which god will save them.  Which god will really help lead them out of their crisis and to a new and better place?  Which god will be the real answer to their prayers, with a good way to follow? 

So the priests of Baal did their thing.  They put together a magnificent offering to the God of local prosperity.  They spent all day doing the right things, chanting the right prayers and songs, even offering their own blood in just the right way.  They gave it their all as they always had for the prosperity of Canaan.  And nothing happened.  Nothing changed.  No answer, no way forward, no promise of a better day or a real solution to the problems of the day.

So then it was Elijah’s turn.  First, to repair the broken-down altar; the priests of Baal must have snickered at how much time that took.  Then, to put in 12 special stones – one for each of the 12 tribes of old Israel; broad smiles all around, because the tribes had separated into two kingdoms for as long as people could remember – what a nostalgic fool Elijah was!  And then, when he finally got around to putting on his sacrifice to call Yahweh’s attention, what does he do but douse it with water – all over, three times, totally waterlogging it!  How the priests of Baal and even the people looking on must have howled at how inept and foolish this man named Elijah was.  How could Yahweh ever show his saving presence and attract people to follow his way, with a sacrifice as badly conceived as this?

Except, that’s exactly what happens.  Fire comes down from heaven, and touches the altar.  The sacrifice catches.  It bursts into flame.  And then it burns, it burns up and up and up, all the way down to cinders and ashes.  The sacrifice – as foolish and improbable as it was, has been accepted.  It has attracted Yahweh’s attention, and drawn the power of Yahweh to save, into the affairs of the kingdom.  The way forward – the way out of the mess they are in, the way to a better way of being in the world, is clear.  And it’s not the way of Baal; it’s the way of Yahweh.

All of which leaves me with two questions.

One is, in the crises we face today, is the way of Yahweh still the way to go, rather than the way of Baal? And if so, what does that mean for us?

And the other is, are even the most imperfect sacrifices and foolish offerings we make in the name of Yahweh, still powerful and effective to draw the real saving power of God into the life and affairs of the world, and to the attention of people today?

 

Toward Sunday, May 29, 2016

Reading:  I Kings 18:20-40 (Troubled time for the people.  The ten northern tribes have separated to form the Kingdom of Israel, leaving the two southern tribes as the Kingdom of Judah.  The Kingdom of Israel begins incorporating a few practices of Baalism, the Canaanite religion of fertility and prosperity, into its worship of Yahweh; and when Israel's King Ahab marries Queen Jezebel of the Sidonites, an aggressive Baalist, Ahab grants her desire to make Baalism, rather than Yahwism, the civic religion of Israel.  Ironically as soon as this is done -- instead of renewing the fertility of the land and the prosperity of the people as Baal promises to do, a three-year drought ensues and the people suffer terribly under the new regime.  Elijah, a prophet of Yahweh, publicly criticizes the King, denounces the Queen, and challenges 450 priests of Baal to meet him on Mt Carmel to see which God -- Baal or Yahweh, will be the kingdom's saviour.)

I like the Elijah stories -- and the Elisha ones that follow, that will be our worship readings for the next 6 weeks.  Elijah is a strong and colourful character, committed life-or-death to honouring and following Yahweh in all things.  And Elisha is a worthy successor, as devoted to his master as his master was to their God.

And what a delightful story to start with -- 450 priests of Baal putting together a magnificent offering to their god, spending all day doing the right things and chanting the right songs and even offering their own blood in just the right way, to please Baal and have Baal come down and accept their offering by burning it up with heavenly fire.  

But ... no Baal, no matter how hard they try.

Then lonely Elijah, having first to repair the altar to Yahweh that's fallen into disuse -- then after putting together an offering to Yahweh, dousing it with water to the point of total water-loggedness (imagine the priests of Baal laughing at that huge mistake!), then asking Yahweh to come down and consume it with fire.  

And Yahweh does!!  Burns up the whole water-logged mess down to cinders and ashes!!

Yahweh wins.  Baal is discredited.  And Elijah has the people put the 450 priests of Baal to death.

What a drama!!

The story raises a few questions for me, though.

1. What is Baal and Baalism?  

Is it just an ancient pagan fertility religion with strange rites -- some fanciful, some terrible?  Something we read about in Sunday school lessons and books about the Bible and ancient people, and don't have to worry about now?

Or is Baalism more universal than that?  Even current and contemporary?  Just an ancient form of a universal human tendency and temptation to idolize one's own land, one's tribe, one's family and one's home, and to pray and work for the prosperity and well-being of these close things at any cost to one's self and others?

2.  Baal promises personal and tribal prosperity to the faithful.  Does Yahweh promise prosperity?  If so, is Yahweh different from Baal?  If not -- if Yahweh's promise is not personal or tribal prosperity, then what does Yahweh promise?

3. The story does not say Yahweh told Elijah to kill the priests of Baal; Elijah seems to have done that on his own initiative.  Does Yahweh -- does God approve of it?

4.  Is the contest on Mt Carmel all about seeing which God has the most fire, and who is therefore the more to be feared?  Or is something else on display here -- something other than the superior firepower of God?  Is this a schoolyard battle of "my-god-is-stronger-than-your-god," or does something else get revealed?

Sermon from Sunday, May 22, 2016

Reading:  Proverbs 8:1-4, 24-31

Theme:  Holy Sophia!  Where have you been all my life? 

I wonder what my life would have been like if I had come to know Sophia earlier.  What my character, my behaviour, my relationships and my ministry would have been like if I had come to know her better than I even do now.

Sophia is that side – face – expression of the fullness of God that is celebrated in Proverbs 8, and in other parts of the Wisdom Literature of the Old Testament – of the Hebrew Scriptures.  And maybe wisdom is something we come to only later in life – or come back to, after growing away from it for most of our lives.  I wonder if the kind of wisdom God is about, is natural to babies and the littlest of children, and as we grow up we also grow out of it, and away from it until maybe – if we’re lucky, in later years we find the freedom to recover and rediscover that wise way of being truly human in a new and deeper way.  At the very least, I hope that might be my story.

Sophia is the Latin word for Wisdom, so in the old translations of the Hebrew Scriptures that the Western church used for its first fifteen hundred years, Sophia is the name given to the aspect, the face, or the person of God celebrated in Proverbs 8 as the key to the universe and to good life on Earth:

Does not Sophia call, and Sophia raise her voice?
At the holy shrines and along the daily way,

in the common marketplace and the holy temple,

Holy Sophia takes her stand and cries out:
“To you, O people, I call, and my cry is to all who want to live.

I was the first of the Lord’s great works;

at the very beginning I was set up,

at the first, before the beginning of the earth.
Before ocean depths and bubbling-up springs,

before mountains were shaped and hills brought forth,

when he had not yet made earth and fields,

had not made Earth as a planet within the cosmos,

had not even yet sketched out the meaning of cosmos,

I was there.

And it was with me and through me

that each step of the way, he brought to be all that is.

I was beside him, providing the blueprint –

being the blueprint myself –

the key and the plan to how all things fit,

and how they fit together for good.

In the New Testament in the Gospel of John, this figure of Wisdom as a separate expression or person of God – a part that specifically relates to creation and makes it good, is picked up and called the Logos – the Greek word for Word, the divine Word above all that’s the key to true and good life, and which we believe was incarnated and seen in Jesus. 

So is Sophia then what we call the Holy Spirit?  The outflow from God’s inner mystery, that calls into being all reality and fills it with good direction and meaning?  That takes human shape in Jesus, and through him calls us to live truly human lives like him in touch with the life of all Earth? 

In the reading from Proverbs, this Holy Sophia is described as a “master worker” – or at least that’s the most common translation, as a “master builder” with whom and through whom the transcendent God brings the world into being. 

The image is familiar.  Building and construction we know.  Blueprints and the need to follow them we understand.  Doing things right and not doing them the wrong way, we accept, along with the need to BE right, to have the right answers and turn to the right experts when we don’t, to feel bad when we fail or things seem to fall apart, and to be on the right side with other good and right people so together we can fight and win against those who are wrong and bad.

That’s the kind of life, the kind of faith, the kind of person, and the kind of God I grew up with, and grew into.

But there’s also another way of translating the description of Sophia in these verses.  The old Hebrew words are ambiguous, and in addition to being “master worker” and “master builder,” this description of Sophia is also just as accurately translated “little child,” or “child at play.”  In addition to being the holy master builder, creating a clockwork universe and a logical, rational structure of reality where every piece has a place and there’s proper good place for every piece, Holy Sophia is also, in the words of Proverbs:

like a little child – the daily delight of the fullness of God,
rejoicing – happily playing before the mystery every minute of the day,
rejoicing – happily playing in and playing with all that is and all that will be,
and thoroughly delighting in the human race.

As one scholar says, “the playful nature of this language cannot be over-emphasized.  Lady Wisdom, who calls out to any who will listen, who offers many crucial skills to those who seek her out— like shrewdness, righteous speech, a truthful tongue, counsel and prudence, even the righteousness of kings —is also just plain fun!  [More like a playful little child than a precious and proper lady] she gambols in the garden and the cosmic playground that is creation, and she shares her special delight with all human beings. Wisdom – dear Holy Sophia, is not only the right way to go; she also offers the most fun enjoyable way to go.”

Sophia does sound like fun – not as deadly serious, as logical and rational, nor as hierarchic as I have tended to be – not focused so much on right and wrong and the need to be the only right one, but more on right and right, and right again, and the loving, caring, mutually helpful interplay and interdependence of all that is in the world – playing with all that God has made, and loving to see just how it all fits together in so many ways – loving the quest not to win, but to create right and good relations with all.

As I face my later years now, I hope I’m able to know and grow into this side of God – to know and grow into this face, this person called Sophia – the cosmic master worker who just happens also to be a delightfully playful little child.

This week I half-jokingly posted on-line to other ministers a possible sermon title: “Who the heck is Sophia?  And why is she suddenly so popular?” I thought it was clever, and almost immediately I received this reply:  “You poor unfortunate thing, Brian (joking)... I take it you didn't study her in seminary?  She is a fascinating figure....” – from Judith Stark, a UCC minister in Vancouver BC. 

I thank Judith for her wonderful reply.  Yes, she was joking.  But at the same time, I completely believe her and know that my life will be a whole lot richer, deeper and more enjoyable, with Holy Sophia as part of it.

Towards Sunday, May 22, 2016 (Trinity Sunday ... and May 2-4 Weekend!)

Reading:  Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31 (Celebration of God's Wisdom -- the Great Sophia, who is called into being along with the cosmos, as the underlying spirit and way of wisdom embedded in all things, and available to all humanity as the key to good, true and sustaining life.)

When I was just a kid in the faith in a very exclusivist conservative church, the idea I got (maybe even was taught) was that 

• first there was God, 
• then Jesus came into the picture to save us from our sin against God, 
• and then (only) for those who accepted Jesus as God's saving Son, there was the special gift of the Spirit and, with it, the possession of true truth that non-Christians just do not have.

Understandably, life has made me question that understanding of things.

So I am intrigued by a different procession that seems to be suggested to Christian ears by the reading from Proverbs 8: 

• first, God creating and calling things into being; 
• second, the Spirit of Wisdom -- Great Sophia, expressed from God as the principle organizing force, the true way of being (even the Logos, we might say?) of all the universe and available to all (really all!) who are willing to look and be open; 
• and third (if you are Christian and looking for how Christ fits into this holy parade), there is Jesus the Christ who brings this universal, cosmic wisdom to incarnation in a single life in a single point in time (which seems to suggest that Jesus is not the way in to some special, unique, exclusive dispensation of graced wisdom apart from the rest of the world, but is a way into the deep and fundamental wisdom that all the world at its best is universally open to).  

Why do I suddenly feel like part of the human race?  
And is that what God is trying to make me, by helping me be Christian?

Sermon from Pentecost Sunday, May 15, 2016

Readings:  John 14:12-17, 25-27 and Acts 2:1-8, 14-18

Theme:  Something More

Have you heard Spirit?

I think I might have.

In my late teens and early University years I occasionally attended a large Bible study of mostly young people from across the city of Winnipeg -- Jesus Freaks, a variety of spiritual hippies, a bunch of well-heeled church kids looking for something, and a corps of charismatic leaders.  Each Friday night 75-100 people crammed into a large, old home for 2-3 hours of singing, praying, testimony, Bible exposition and almost weekly, also a manifestation of glossolalia -- a number of people speaking in tongues.   It was my first and only experience of hearing people speak in tongues.

My home church was a conservative German and English Baptist church with traditional hour-long worship dominated by the minister's sermon, a few hymns and choir anthem.  We were mostly spoken to, and not at all in tongues.  The charismatic Friday-night Bible study seemed a radical, risky and rebellious thing to be attending, and though I was never drawn myself to seek "the gift of tongues" I was immensely glad to be able to listen in.  

It was probably the most beautiful thing I have ever heard in my life.  There were no words that I could tell.  Just notes and sounds – a kind of floating wave of ancient, exotic chant.  It usually began quietly in a corner of the room with just one or two voices, gradually rose to draw in a few more voices, was carried for maybe 5, 10 or 15 minutes, then gradually faded. I do not doubt it was a movement of the spirit, and I was deeply grateful to know “there is something more” to church, God and faith than what I was able to feel in my home church.   Something more.

Have you seen Spirit at work in a body of people?

I think I have.

I was doing pastoral oversight work for Presbytery 8 or 10 years ago, making tri-ennial visits to churches in the Presbytery – meeting with the minister, other staff, and the Church Council to find out about the life and ministry of the congregation, their joys and sorrows, and how Presbytery might be of any help.

At one church our team was talking with the church secretary and we learned she worked part-time there and part-time also at another church.  It became clear she found working at the church we are at, tiring and depleting.  There seemed so little energy among the people, so few people doing so much work, people bickering, and most of the work being focussed just on helping the church keep the roof on, the lights working, and the doors open.

She said it was nothing like the other church she worked at.  That church, she said, was a joy to work for, and the work energized rather than depleted her.

When asked said the other church was St. Cuthbert’s Presbyterian in Westdale, and I told her I knew of it.  Five or ten years before I had been chaplain at the University, and St Cuthbert’s was just on the fringe of the campus community, and a number of University professors and students attended there, along with a good mix of all ages from the neighbourhood around the church. 

St Cuthbert’s had – still has, a modest building.  In the time I knew of them, they hadn’t bothered expanding or making it fancy.  Because at least at that time they focused instead on where God was leading them in the world.  Nicaragua and the FMLN were on the social justice radar at the time, and St Cuthbert’s got involved in the struggle for democracy in Central America.  They sponsored, housed and befriended Central American refugees.  They made trips themselves to Nicaragua.  They came to know first-hand the meaning of the American Empire and of political darkness in our time, as well as the meaning of good news.

They also were involved locally – with members leading Christian awareness events on campus, organizing co-op daycare for the neighbourhood, planting a community garden, exploring the meaning of the Bible today, and offering worship that at different times featured jazz, praise and even pop music in addition to more traditional hymns.

I’ve no idea how they are today.  That was 15 or 20 or more years ago.  I know they also had problems even then, and have faced real challenges.  But at the same time, they were doing good work.  They were engaged in God’s work.  Because of how they were together, and how they tried to open themselves to the story and the way of Jesus, they were doing and being something more than anything they could have done and been just on their own.   And I think that’s why many of the people who went there, did so – because by being there they knew they were able to be part of something more in the world than they could be on their own, or anywhere else.

Have you ever been in something Spirit-touched?

Maybe.

In late October of 2003 I was on week-long solitary retreat at Crieff Hills.  At the advice of a spiritual director, I was using the stories of the resurrection as the basis of my prayer and meditation each day.  I started Monday morning, was staying in an old, one-person cottage, and I had the grounds virtually to myself.  By mid-week I was enjoying a very rich time of daily reading, prayer, walking, meditation and rest.

On Thursday a busload of high school students pulled in for a day’s school trip, which at first I thought would ruin my retreat.  As I wrote in my journal:

“Today I have been upset.  I have felt invaded – as though some boundary has been crossed and what was ‘mine’ is being trespassed and spoiled.

“Then just five minutes ago as I was finishing mid-day prayer with an offering of the Lord’s Prayer I heard footsteps through leaves just outside the cottage, and then the front door of the cottage being opened tentatively.  I got up and went to the door, ready to repel the intruder.  He – a high school student eating a sandwich, was as surprised to see me as I was angry to see him.  With nary a hello or kind word, I began to say to him I was on solitary retreat and wanted to be alone.  Thankfully he interrupted me in mid-sentence, and stammered something to me about hearing a big noise and about thinking there was a fire.  Then he left.

“Strange thing for him to say.  Stranger yet that what I read this morning was about a sound like the rush of a mighty wind that filled the house where they were staying, and divided tongues as of fire appearing among them and resting upon each of them.

“My answer to the boy before he disappeared was, ‘Not here.’ ”

Not here – as I looked around the cottage and saw no disturbance, saw no fire.  But I still wonder.  Was there something more going on where I was and in what I was doing, than I knew myself?

I think I always thought of the Spirit somehow being somewhere else—not in traditional church, but in a radical, rebellious movement; not in my church, but in someone else’s.  

But I wonder – is the Spirit more present, more alive, and more discernible to others right here than we even know ourselves  -- as long as in what we do and where we are going, we honestly focus as much as we know on the presence and the way of Jesus, the Christ?

Have you heard Spirit?

Have you seen Spirit at work in a body of people?

Have you ever been in something Spirit-touched?